The Decision-Making Storm
Leaving a marriage isn’t an easy choice.
Especially not when you’ve committed fully to
the vows. Especially not when you’ve survived
divorce once already. Especially not when the
world tells you to “stick it out” or “stand by your
man.”
But in that church, clarity cut through the noise. I
wasn’t abandoning him—I was saving myself. I
had to.
The decision didn’t come in a dramatic outburst.
It came in a sacred moment of stillness. When I
got home, I lit a candle, took a deep breath, and
made a list—every reason I fell in love with him
nine years earlier. I read each one out loud. With
every line, I mourned. Because I realized that man
was long gone. I had been holding on to a ghost.
And I wept.
It wasn’t a cinematic cry. It was guttural. Full-
body. The kind of sob that feels like it unhooks
something from your ribcage. That’s what it feels
like when you let go of a dream you’ve spent
years trying to salvage.
But in that pain, something else showed up:
peace. A whisper. A knowing.
You’ve survived worse. You’ve done this before.
You can do it again.
Surrounded by grief, I was shown a choice:
I could stay. I could keep honoring the vows I
made, believing that staying meant love. I could
keep sacrificing my joy and clarity in service of an
illusion. I could keep walking on eggshells,
praying for change, and crumbling under the
weight of unspoken pain. I could keep dissolving
myself, one sleepless night and empty promise at
a time.
Or I could choose me.
SHE TALKS | 62